Kitabı oku: «Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion», sayfa 3
As she entered the bedroom she saw his jacket already casually thrown onto the bed. She could hear the thunder of water in the voluminous spa bath.
A shudder ran through her. What if he changed his mind and decided to join her in the bath? A throb pulled deep inside her womb at the thought, even as her mind insisted its denial. She forced her feet toward the bathroom. Luc was bent over the bath, pouring a splash of perfumed bath foam into the water and swirling it with a sweep of his hand. She watched as he inhaled the fragrance, the expression of sheer longing on his face striking hard to her core.
She hadn’t stopped to think how this had all been for him. To be married and then to have lost her to this frozen wasteland of not remembering even the smallest thing about their life together.
“I’ve missed this,” he said as she entered the spacious room. His voice dropped an octave. “I’ve missed you.”
“I…I’m sorry, Luc. I’m trying to remember.” Her hands fisted in frustration at her sides and her voice became more insistent. “And I did! I remembered the garden. That’s when the headache became unbearable.”
“Don’t force it, Belinda. We don’t want a recurrence of your blackout. Let it come back to you in its own time.” He reached down and turned off the faucet, his movements fluid—just hinting at the muscled strength beneath his clothes. “There, your bath is ready.”
Without a second glance he turned away from her, pulling his shirt free of his trousers and unbuttoning it. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he shrugged the fine cotton off his shoulders exposing the long lean line of his back. His skin still held a warm golden tan. As he unbuckled his belt and unsnapped his trousers she felt a deep longing rise within her, right up until the moment he exposed the long angry scar that laid an undeniable stripe from his hip down his right leg.
She couldn’t hold back the cry that broke from her lips.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” Luc half turned toward her, a flash of anger sparking in his eyes. “I’m told it will fade, and this one, too—” he gestured to the surgical scar on his abdomen “—in time. But I’ll always have a limp.”
“Is it still painful?” Belinda managed to ask, her gaze still riveted to the wound site. A stab of guilt lanced through her. So wrapped up in her own problems, she hadn’t considered what he’d physically been through.
“Sometimes it’s worse than others,” he admitted flatly before reaching into the shower to turn on the water. “Go on. Enjoy your bath.”
He stepped into the large shower cubicle, and she watched as the water cascaded over his body, rivulets running through the light dusting of hair on his chest and arrowing down lower, past his taut stomach. Even though he’d obviously lost some weight in hospital, he still had a commandingly powerful build. As he lathered shower gel over his skin, she suddenly wished she’d had the courage to join him in the shower. To be the one stroking the glistening liquid soap down his chest and across the ridged hardness of his abdomen, and lower.
A flush of heat suffused her body. What was she thinking? Only hours ago she’d been terrified at the prospect of travelling with him, of leaving the virtual safety of her hospital room. Now here she was, little more than an opportunistic voyeur as he luxuriated under the pounding water of his shower.
She wheeled about and focused instead on the bath he’d drawn for her. She needed to twist her hair up, and unerringly she opened the correct drawer where her hair accessories were lined up. It should give her some comfort, she decided, that she instinctively knew where such things were. With a modicum of movement she pinned her hair up, undressed and lowered herself into the warm fragrant water. As the foaming bubbles closed over her body, she relaxed. They offered her some privacy for when Luc came out of the shower, but something inside her begged to attract his attention, something she couldn’t control.
And that, right now, was her greatest fear. She didn’t recognise the woman who’d fallen in love with Luc Tanner and agreed to marry him. Clearly it wasn’t the Belinda Wallace she believed herself to be.
Something within her had changed in the past several months. Something drastic. It had seen her uplift herself from her home in Auckland, from her family and from her career. To give all that up for him.
She sank lower in the bath, covering her shoulders and stretching her long legs out before her. As she looked out the window over the valley, bathed in the start of a glorious sunset with swaths of red and purple creeping across the sky, she acknowledged she owed it to herself, and to Luc, to remember what that was.
Four
Despite the misgivings that plagued her about how she’d handle Luc’s exit from the shower, she was surprised to find that it all felt almost impossibly familiar. Even so, tension gripped her shoulders and she pushed her head back against the built-in cushion on the side of the bath, closing her eyes the moment she’d heard him snap off the water and push open the shower door.
Her active imagination painted a very clear picture of how he looked as she heard him drag one of the thick white bath towels from the heated rail and cast it across his body to dry himself. She counted to one hundred, very slowly, before she opened her eyes again.
Luc stood at the vanity, the towel riding low on his hips, his cane resting against the blush-coloured marble countertop. She watched as he smoothed shaving cream across the hard angles of his shadowed jaw and picked up his razor. There was something incredibly sexy about watching a man shave, Belinda decided as she found herself captured by his every movement.
She must have stirred because suddenly he turned and caught her watching him. A slow smile pulled at his lips, a smile that melted her right through to her core.
“Enjoying the bath?” His eyes glowed as he took in the curve of her shoulder, the sweep of her arm as it rested along the edge of the tub and back up again to her throat where her pulse beat rapidly in the slender column of her neck.
If he’d have traced his fingertips along the same path she couldn’t have felt it more distinctly. Beneath the froth her breasts ached, her nipples tightened and her inner muscles clenched in response.
“Mmm, wonderful,” she managed, but as she gazed at him she found herself referring more to the vision of male than the silky-soft environment in which she reclined.
“Hungry?” he asked, sending her mind into overdrive before she realised that she was, indeed, starving.
“Yes, I suppose I’d better get out.”
“No, don’t bother. I’ll check first to see if dinner’s ready yet.” He swiped at his face with a small towel and dropped it into a laundry hamper on his way out of the bathroom.
When he returned he pushed a small wheeled trolley with one hand. As he drew closer to the bath, Belinda spied a large ceramic platter and an ice bucket containing a bottle of one of the Hawke’s Bay region’s finest sauvignon blancs. Two elegantly cut crystal wineglasses stood beside the ice bucket.
“You look like you’ve done this before,” Belinda commented as Luc extracted the bottle from the ice and deftly wiped it with a crisp white serviette.
“I’ve done some waiting in my time,” Luc replied guardedly.
He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her, then pulled up the vanity stool next to the bath and sat down. His towel dropped away at the side, revealing the length of his right leg—exposing the angry scar. She averted her gaze to stare out the window and past the darkening valley to where the final remnants of the sun slipped beyond the last hill. His very nearness, and nakedness, played havoc with her heart rate. Even the warmth emanating from his body tempted and tormented her.
Belinda focussed on taking a sip of the pale strawcoloured wine, letting the perfectly chilled tropical fruit flavours roll over her tongue and down her throat. She knew from what memory she still clung to with an iron grip that no one else had ever elicited such a powerful reaction from her before.
Was this what had bound her to Luc? The overwhelming physical awareness that simmered constantly beneath the surface?
“Here, try this,” Luc said, interrupting her thoughts.
Belinda turned her head toward him, to the morsel of provolone cheese encased in a sliver of prosciutto he offered. Obediently she opened her mouth. If she’d thought for even a minute that she’d regained control of her equilibrium around Luc it was shattered the instant his fingertips touched her lips. Tiny shocks buzzed across her skin at the fleeting contact as the flavours exploded in her mouth.
“Good?” he asked.
“Mmm, delicious. But, Luc, you don’t need to wait on me,” she protested.
“I know,” he answered simply. “Indulge me.” He dipped a slice of crusty bread in aioli. “Here, try this. It’s Didier’s own recipe and made with product sourced solely from Tautara Estate.”
As he brought the morsel to her mouth a drop of oil fell and pooled in the curve of her collarbone right where it met her shoulder.
“Ah, we can’t have that,” Luc murmured.
He leaned forward, his tongue darting across her skin to lick up the single drop. Every muscle in her body coiled tight and she nearly shot out the water at the exquisitely brief caress. Her fingers curled tight around the stem of her wineglass, and she had to consciously stop the reflexive jerk that threatened to snap the delicate stem.
“More?” His lips were by her ear, his breath fanning the suddenly hyperresponsive skin of her neck.
“M-more?” She could barely get the single syllable past her tightened throat.
“Antipasto.” Again his breath was a stroke of heated air over her skin.
“I—”
“Try this.”
Helpless to do anything but open her mouth, she accepted the slice of marinated artichoke heart. Slowly he offered more bite-size delectable delights interspersed only with sips of wine.
Luc carried their conversation, keeping things general. Aside from that one time he’d licked the oil from her skin he didn’t touch her again and, she was shocked to realise, she wanted him to. Oh, how she wanted him to.
When her glass was empty he took it from her and replaced it on the trolley, then leaning heavily on his cane he rose to his feet.
“Our main meal will be ready now. I’ll leave you to get dried and dressed, unless you’d like some help.”
Luc looked down upon her in the cooling water of the tub. A pulse throbbed at the side of his neck. A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow. It gave her some relief to know that he was as similarly affected as she by the intimacy of their situation.
“No, I can manage. Thanks.”
“Good. Don’t be too long. I meant what I said about you not being out of my sight.”
“Within reason, of course,” Belinda felt compelled to add, suddenly desperate for some control of her racing pulse and the heady sense of seduction he’d transfused through her.
“Belinda, when it comes to you I’m not a reasonable man. Don’t keep me waiting.” His green eyes flared with heat and a self-deprecating smile pulled at his lips.
She stared at the door for several minutes after it closed behind him. His words carried more than a warning. There was an implied threat underwriting his statement, a threat that made her near uncontrollable physical reaction to him a risk to her precarious equilibrium.
He was a conundrum, sending conflicting messages that alternately confused and calmed her. The man who’d shared the antipasto with her was completely inverse to the man who’d brought her home from the hospital today, or the one who’d been at her side when she’d fainted in the herb garden. But which one was the real Luc Tanner? Which one was the man she’d fallen in love with?
By the time Belinda had dried herself and slipped through to the dressing room to select some clothes, Luc was waiting for her in the bedroom. He’d dressed casually in black jeans and a black polo shirt, and the colour made his eyes appear even greener than usual. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Starkly handsome, he was both beautiful and terrifying to behold.
She nervously smoothed her hands over the caramelcoloured linen trousers she’d teamed with the cream silk top she’d chosen.
“Will this do?” she asked, uncomfortable under his silent scrutiny.
“You look beautiful in anything. Come. Manu has set the table for us on our deck so we can enjoy the summer evening while it lasts.”
Belinda followed him through to the living room and out the open French doors. Burning tapers attached to the deck lit a table set with white linen and gleaming silverware. Heated chafing dishes sat on a smaller table to one side, alongside them a colourful tossed salad. For a moment she felt as though she’d stepped into a fairy tale.
Everything was magically perfect—the setting, the darkened valley with the peppering of lights from the far distant Taupo township on its periphery. Even the gentle strains of her favourite opera piped through the ceiling-mounted speakers in the eaves over the deck. It was almost surreal, but the aromas from the chafing dishes gave her a reality check. Not even in her dreams had she smelled anything so divine.
“I told Manu we’d serve ourselves tonight,” Luc said, slipping back the cover on one of the dishes to expose tiny gourmet potatoes garnished with fresh chopped chives and handing Belinda a gold-rimmed plate.
Her experienced eye recognised the pattern of the fine imported china. Was it one they’d chosen together, or was it just a normal part of Luc’s everyday life?
“You’re frowning. Trying to remember again?” Luc’s voice cut across her thoughts.
“I recognise this china. Did we choose it?”
Surprise flitted through his eyes, but was swiftly veiled before he spoke. “Yes, we did. You helped me outfit most of our suite before the wedding. It was important to you.”
And he’d encouraged her, she was sure of it. She had a sense that he’d been prepared to do anything to keep her here—to make Tautara Estate her home as much as it was indelibly his.
“I know.” She hesitated a moment, then continued. “I don’t remember, but in here—” she pressed her hand against her chest “—I know.”
Luc didn’t speak straightaway, but Belinda couldn’t help but notice the sudden tension in his shoulders or the way his eyebrows drew together. Eventually he spoke. “That’s excellent. You’re making great progress.”
Did his hand shake ever so slightly as he dished up for them both? Chiding herself for being fanciful, she applied herself to savouring the grilled trout fillets drizzled with a subtly herbed sauce, baby potatoes and fresh salad greens with the rest of their bottle of wine. It had been so long since she’d had anything with such delicate flavour. If she never tasted a bite of hospital food again it would be too soon. They ate in comparative silence, a silence that could have been awkward but for the beauty of the velvet-dark vista spread out before them.
“It’s so beautiful here.” She sighed. “How do you ever tear yourself away?”
“Sometimes business requires it. For the most part I’m more than happy to remain here. Tautara Estate comprises 6,500 hectares. There’s always plenty to do.” He smiled as Belinda fought back a yawn. “Why don’t we call it a night? You’ve had a tiring day, and I have to admit I could use the rest myself.”
“Your leg is sore?” Belinda felt a sudden surge of guilt.
“No more than usual,” Luc replied with a wave of his hand, dismissing her care.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
Luc’s lips firmed into a straight line and she sensed rather than heard his sigh.
“No. Just be yourself,” he replied enigmatically.
What did he mean by that, she wondered, catching the inside of her lip between her teeth as she bit back the words that would ask him precisely that. Be herself. Right now she’d give anything to know what version of “herself” he meant.
Luc leaned heavily on his cane as he stood to get up from the table. She caught the fleeting grimace of pain he swiftly tried to mask.
Was this the way it had always been between them? Him hiding his true feelings and thoughts? She couldn’t imagine that she’d have fallen in love with or married a man who was so closed to her emotionally. It just wasn’t her style. Her family had always been demonstrative, affectionate. They shared their worries and concerns between them—a problem shared is halved, her father always said.
Did she and Luc have that kind of marriage? Something inside her whispered to the contrary, and the inner voice was distinctly unsettling.
Five
When they returned to their private suite, Belinda’s nerves were strung out to screaming point. Inside the bedroom the drapes had been drawn, and the bedside lamps cast a warm inviting glow over the expansive bed. A bed she was now about to share with her husband. Someone had been in the room and dispensed with the throw pillows adorning the head of the bed and had turned down the sheets. A single perfect deep-pink rose stood in a bud vase on the bedside table.
The reality of sleeping with Luc bore down on her with terrifying pressure. Her heart jumped erratically in her chest and she fought to keep her breathing measured. Could she do this? Lord, she didn’t even know which side of the bed he slept on. As if he read her thoughts, Luc gave her a small smile.
“You usually sleep there.” He indicated the side of the bed where the vase stood. “Although I’m happy to change if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
Twin beds would make her feel more comfortable right now, Belinda decided. Even separate rooms. She drew in a levelling breath and forced herself to meet his gaze.
“No, that will be fine. If that’s the way we’ve always done it.”
Luc’s smile froze on his face for the briefest moment before he nodded.
“Belinda—” The chime of his cell phone interrupted what he’d been about to say. He flicked a glance at the caller ID. “Excuse me. I need to take this. I might be a while.”
Belinda watched as he left the room, his murmured tones disappearing behind the closed door. She hurried to the dressing room and grabbed a ruby-coloured nightgown from one of her drawers. With more haste than care she shucked off her clothing and pulled it on. The gown was a filmy piece of next to nothing, with a soft stretch lace bodice that hugged her breasts like a lover’s caress.
She smoothed her hand down over the gossamer-fine material and wondered if she had bought the nightgown as part of her trousseau or whether it had been a gift from Luc. The very idea of his hands caressing the fabric the way her own did now sent a perverse thrill of longing through her body.
What was wrong with her? Inside her mind she reacted like a frightened virgin, yet physically her body yearned for Luc’s touch. Belinda shook her head and hurried to the bathroom. Every step of today had brought her nothing but more questions. She was weary of it all. Bone weary. Suddenly that big, softly lit bed was very inviting indeed.
Catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Belinda wondered whether she shouldn’t have simply chosen a T-shirt to sleep in instead. The tiny spaghetti straps looped over her shoulders lent an impression of wanton fragility, and the warmth of the red fabric made her skin glow like that of a woman welcoming her lover. Belinda huffed in frustration. She was driving herself crazy and it had to stop.
She seated herself at the vanity and grabbed a hairbrush from the drawer and started to brush her long dark hair with punishing strokes.
A movement in the doorway stilled her hand. Luc stepped forward and took her hairbrush from her fingers. “Are you trying to rip it all out?” His censure was as gentle as his touch as he took over from where she’d begun.
“I thought you might have been in bed already,” he commented, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror.
So he’d recognised her sudden fear. He knew her better than she gave him credit for, but then, of course he would. Right now he knew her better than she knew herself. Sudden tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.
Luc stopped brushing, his hands settling on her shoulders.
“Belinda?”
She blinked away the burning moisture, breaking eye contact with him. He saw far too much.
“I’m okay. Just tired, that’s all.”
“Understandable. It’s been a full day, for both of us.” He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Go to bed. I’ll be along in a while.”
She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t coming to bed now.
“Aren’t you tired, too?” she asked.
“Yes, but something’s come up. Guests we weren’t expecting until late next week have brought their trip forward to the day after tomorrow. Manu and I have some contingency plans to lay in place.”
“Guests? Already?”
“It’s not ideal, but they can’t be put off. They should only be here a couple of nights.”
“They’re regulars?”
“After a fashion, yes.”
“Then they’ll have certain expectations. We must meet them. You can’t give them less than that. You wouldn’t under normal circumstances,” she said carefully.
Right now Belinda couldn’t think of anything worse, but this was Luc’s business. The fact he’d cancelled out six weeks of patronage for their honeymoon—six weeks they’d lost—meant he would have to get back to business. Besides, the sooner she resumed life as she’d known it, the sooner she might start to remember.
“Spoken like a true hotelier’s daughter. We’ll worry about it in the morning. Now, go to bed.”
He dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead and turned her toward the bedroom, following close on her heels. When she was settled in the bed, he switched off the lamp nearest her. Belinda suddenly reached out and held his arm.
“Please, leave the other light on until you come to bed?”
“It won’t disturb you?”
“No. I grew used to a light in the hospital.” She stifled a yawn. “Besides, I doubt anything could keep me awake now.”
Challenging heat flared in Luc’s eyes and Belinda felt an answering response in her body. The elasticized bodice of her nightwear felt too small as her nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric.
Well, maybe there was one thing. As wrong as this all felt to her she couldn’t deny there was a powerful magnetic pull between them. Luc straightened and trailed his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, leaving her skin tingling beneath his fleeting touch.
She barely heard the click of the door as it closed behind him. A near overwhelming desire to call him back choked in her throat as Belinda silently admitted she’d never felt so completely lost and alone in her entire life.
The meeting with Manu had been productive, and Luc let himself back into their suite with a tired sigh of relief. Their guests would arrive the day after tomorrow around lunchtime, in time for drinks followed by an al fresco luncheon on the deck. Then, if Belinda was up to it, she’d accompany the female member of the party to Taupo by helicopter for a couple of hours’ shopping while he and Manu took her husband fly-fishing in one of the rivers that ran through the property.
The female member.
Luc clenched his jaw against the curse that fought to rip from his throat. He had no doubt that Demi Le Clerc had trouble up her sleeve when she’d had her assistant phone the estate to change her booking. His unease had magnified when Manu reported he’d tried to contact the award-winning jazz singer to inform her that the booking couldn’t be altered but apparently she and her new fiancé were “in transit” and therefore unavailable. With modern communication being what it was, Luc very much doubted she was unreachable, rather that she’d informed her staff of her intention to be that way. How she’d found out so quickly that he’d returned home said a great deal for her spy network.
Manu had already agreed to check amongst the staff to find out if that particular spy network had been fed by one of their own. Confidentiality and loyalty were sacrosanct. If anyone had abused either, they were in breach of their employment contract and would be dispensed with immediately.
Luc swallowed against the bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of Demi and Belinda meeting. He was reluctant to expose her to Belinda while his wife was still in such a vulnerable position, but then, it may well work to his advantage. What harm could Demi possibly do when Belinda remembered nothing of their time together? Belinda had no idea their marriage had been the catalyst that had seen Demi break tabloid records with the speed of her engagement to aging billionaire oilman Hank Walker.
He’d been a fool to ever let Demi think there was more to their relationship than casual friendship. He’d never once entertained the idea of marrying her, despite her attempts to entice him into commitment. They’d made love just the once—a coupling that provided physical release only, with little else to recommend it.
Luc moved restlessly toward his piano in the dimly lit room. He was too wound up to sleep. He closed his eyes and let his fingers drift gently across the keys, the haunting quality of the music he played flowed over him—relaxing his muscles and his mind.
Playing had always had that effect on him, even back in his teens, although he was never the kind of teenager who’d have admitted to this particular skill. No, hotwiring cars and breaking and entering were more his style then. It had been during a B&E that he’d been sprung by the owner of the house—an elderly gentleman who’d seen right through Luc’s attitude and invited him back, through the front door next time. It had taken six weeks but Luc had found his feet retracing the path to Mr. Hensen’s home. The retired pianist had sensed Luc needed an outlet, a change of direction in his path of self-destruction. He’d insisted on giving Luc lessons—lessons that had been emphatically refused until the threat of going to the police was coolly raised.
It had been ages since Luc had thought about Mr. Hensen. Ages since he’d allowed himself to miss the old man in a way he’d never missed his parents after their deaths.
As the final note hung on the air, Luc let his eyes open again. Belinda sat opposite him on one of the large cream sofas, her feet curled under her. His eyes raked over her barely clad body, his pulse leaping to instant life. It had been torture to leave her in bed, her body gilded by the bedside lamp, her hair a glorious fan across the fine linen of her pillowcase. He’d wanted to make love with her with a physical ache that had almost driven him to his knees—to imprint himself back in her mind and her body in a way she would never forget again.
He dragged his wayward thoughts under disciplined restraint. Luc Tanner hadn’t gotten where he was today by giving in to impulse. No, everything about his life was about control. He’d learned the hard way what a lack of power did to a person, how it demeaned them—rendered them helpless victims. The helpless had no respect in this world. Pity, yes. But he’d had his fill of pity and well-meaning intentions. Now he commanded respect in all walks of his life.
“You play beautifully,” Belinda said, her voice hesitant, as if she sensed the power play going on inside him.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I guess I’m too used to the disruptions and noise of the hospital. The quiet, of all things, woke me. A bit later I heard you on the piano. Did your meeting with Manu go well?”
“Yes, everything’s organised. Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can have them rerouted to another property if necessary.”
“Luc, when I couldn’t get back to sleep I started to think about a few things, and to be honest, as terrifying as it is, I have to get back into my old life if I’m going to move forward. I can’t turn back time and see what happened before, but I can’t stay stagnant like this, either. It’s driving me crazy. Everything around me—” she waved her arm to encapsulate the room “—it’s all new, yet sometimes familiar at the same time. Even the music you played. I know you’ve played it for me before, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Luc swallowed. Yes, he’d played it for her before. The last time had been the night he’d proposed. They’d spent a day out on the estate together, made love together for the first time on the riverbank during a picnic—his body tightened in remembrance of her welcoming embrace, at how she’d uninhibitedly given herself fully to him. He’d instantly become addicted to her in a way he’d never imagined possible.
He’d never wanted anyone or anything in his life as much as he wanted her. The truth had frightened him until he’d persuaded himself it was because she was the perfect accompaniment to the world he’d built. He couldn’t have been thinking of anything else. By the time they’d driven back to the house, he’d decided to step up his plans and propose to her earlier than he’d anticipated. He still remembered the surge of triumph when she’d said yes.
They’d fallen to the floor, right here in this sitting room, and made love again to seal their betrothal. All she’d worn for the next twenty-four hours had been the blue diamond engagement ring he’d had made for her months earlier.
“Will you play something else for me now?” Belinda’s voice dragged him back from the past.
“Another time,” he said, rising from the piano bench and grabbing his cane.
He offered her his hand to pull her to her feet, and they went through to the bedroom together. By the time he’d undressed and was ready for bed she was curled on her side of the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing even.
